Natural Mage (Page 60)

“We put a powerful spell into two casings,” I said, remembering working with Emery in Seattle.

Reagan turned on me, and anger crossed her face. “That secret-keeping jerk. You see? Every time I think we’re being open with each other, that elder has something up his sleeve. He implied Emery did that spell. He didn’t mention you at all. Which I find a little suspicious, since, you know, I knew you first.” She frowned, pausing for another beat, before wiping it away with her hand. “Whatever. That doesn’t matter right now. He’s got plans. Fine. So do I. I don’t understand those plans, because your mother is like all other Seers, but I have them. And I won’t be spilling. He can suck it.”

“A very odd relationship,” I muttered.

Reagan ignored my remark. “That spell you two did was in two casings. An even more complex spell might take three or four. How the hell can you quickly grab out four casings from among many, sort through them for the order, and then release them all while in the heat of battle? No, that’s not going to work. Well, for now, it probably has to. Okay, here’s what we need…”

Reagan spent the next few minutes listing off the types of spells we’d ideally have ready for the battle ahead. Everything from attack to defense to marvels of nature. Then she described the more important and pressing matter of creating gigantic walls to keep onlookers from seeing the massive battle. We were supposed to create a Not-So-Great Wall of China to basically run along the outskirts of the land surrounding the warehouse, though she wouldn’t say why it needed to be so massive.

Then we needed to wander through the fields and make sure there weren’t any traps and magical pitfalls that had been planted prior to our arrival.

As she was winding down, her phone rang.

“Red.” She tapped the face of the phone and put it to her ear. “Hello?”

Emery plucked at my sleeve before looking over the organic offerings. “Let’s focus on those walls first. They’ll need to be strong and magical, and they’ll need to be in casings. We don’t want them to know we’re essentially trying to lock them in…until we lock them in.”

“Locking in eighty people to our three.” A tremor rolled through my body, begging me to do what he’d suggested in the beginning. Run!

Two hours later, I was jarred out of my extreme focus. A warning shook my bones. My teeth rattled.

I backed away from the elaborate spell I was working on, letting it dissipate and drift into space. Emery straightened up next to me, his body going taut. The magic around us instantly changed from busied loops of beautiful designs, to rolling, boiling bubbles of pure magic and energy.

Reagan glanced over from what she was doing on the other side of the warehouse. Magic draped across the walls in patterns that barely made sense to my eye. A little blurry, sometimes glowing and glittering in places, the weaves seemed to shift into tangible things—walls and chairs and draping vines—made up of moving, surging, and pulsing colors. A high gloss covered the whole thing, and the intent felt majestic.

It was the first time I’d ever seen actual weaves with her magic.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Tripwire three was set off,” Emery said, back to working on his spell.

“Five for me,” I said, refocusing.

In two hours, we’d created a small pile of spells tucked into casings, some of which would soon be used to create the sight-blocking, sound-deadening walls. We also had a half-dozen magical tripwires placed around the fields surrounding the warehouse. In addition to alerting us of intruders, the tripwires would give a little tag to the first ten people who passed through them. Then, when we released certain casings, they’d get a nasty surprise.

This was assuming they didn’t find and tear down the spells immediately, of course.

Reagan looked back at her spell. “Okay, let’s pack it in. Get some water and a rest. That means they are crawling into position, the snakes.”

“Two hours is a long time,” I said, picking up my power stones. “If this were a normal practice, we’d probably be done by now.”

“We’d be getting ready to go to the car.” Reagan left her spell, but it didn’t fold back into the universe. It stayed where it was, a strange sort of hall of magic within the warehouse. “Either they’re planning to surprise us as we leave, or they’re slow to get organized.” She stopped by the door and put her palm on the wood. “I wish we had a spell for seeing through solid material.”

“Humans came up with that one. It’s called glass.” Emery grabbed his basket of spells and walked it back to the table.

Reagan turned and stared at him, before glancing up at the various windows high in the walls. “This is true.”

A tingling sensation crawled up my spine. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky awoke from a bored stupor and sent out a pulse of power.

Emery, now stalking across the room toward Reagan, stalled and glanced back at the stone. “Did you feel that?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

He nodded and resumed his walk. “That’s what drew me to it in the first place. That pulse. A moment later, I was ambushed by goblins.”

43

“Ambushed…” It took a moment for that word, and its implications, to set in. Adrenaline raged through me, erasing all fatigue. “How can you be so blasé?”

I snatched up my basket with suddenly shaking hands. Two casings jumped out and rolled away. After collecting them again, I hurried them to the table and went back for my stones, collecting them and putting them in their various compartments. Except for Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, Emery’s Plain Jane, and my chunk of Red Beryl, pumping fiery power into the air. It was trying to keep pace with the other two, which would hopefully help boost its power.

“Calm, Penny,” Reagan said in a firm tone, nothing like her usual flippant attitude in the face of danger.

“How can you tell me to stay calm when you sound like that?” I blew out a breath, my legs shaking.

“We’re prepared. We’re ready.” Reagan shot Emery a confused and distracted look when he stopped beside her. “What do you want?”

“I’m your ladder. Stand on my shoulders so you can see.”

A half grin flitted across her face. “No, you wouldn’t have figured out my secret on your own. You were told, and you still have no idea what I can do.”

His expression closed down—which was replaced by wide-eyed shock when Reagan rose into the sky, floating or levitating or flying, I didn’t know, but she left the ground and floated up like a freaking genie.

Up until then, I’d had no idea how much she was holding back.

“You win.” I palmed my heart, in complete awe. “Hands down, you win the contest for the coolest magic. No question.”

Emery nodded mutely.

Reagan stopped her ascent at the side of the window and looked out.

A swear word drifted across the warehouse.

I danced from side to side, my flight reflex in overdrive. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky started pounding with power, thrusting it into the air like a drumbeat. The Red Beryl fizzed and sparkled, something I had never seen it do.

Plain Jane stayed true to its look. No excitement at all. Cool as a cucumber.

“That’s why you’re Emery’s. Right there, that’s why. Stone matches master.” I blew out a breath and jogged in a small circle. I had to do something; I could feel the presence of magic now—sharp, dull, ragged, smooth, all pumping into the warehouse. Collecting in a huge pool of magical intent.

“Oh gobbledygook twatwallop. Butt crack solstice alert. Flubber fart bugger balls.”

“What is she saying?” Reagan said in exasperation.

“I think she has abandoned her usual recipe for slant-swearing in panic.” Emery watched Reagan float to another window. He cocked his head. “Another two tripwires.”

I rose my hand, jogging in place. It felt like my spine was wiggling as people tramped across my tripwires. “Tripwires. Tripwires.”

“We’re surrounded,” Reagan said, lowering. “They must’ve collected out of sight and marched at us in synchronicity. They had information on us. They’ve been watching.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked, wringing my hands.

Trap. Kill. Trap. Kill.

It felt like a huge magical net rose around the warehouse. Some of us would be preserved. Some killed.

I would live.

Reagan would surely die.

I wasn’t sure about Emery.

“Oh bull cocks. Fuckity shit stains.”

“Whoa.” Reagan laughed.

“Penny Bristol, I am telling your mother.” Emery laughed and stuffed ingredients into his pockets. “I should’ve gotten a new utility belt.”

“Here.” Reagan unslung her fanny pack from around her waist. “Use this. I won’t need it now that I’m not pretending.”

He paused, looking unsure.

Reagan shook it. “Hurry.”

He didn’t step forward.

“What’s the matter?” she asked impatiently.

“I made it through my youth without ever succumbing to that trend, only to do so in my twenties?” He shook his head.

“If you call it a fanny pack one more time, I’m going to break your face. It is a pouch! Now put it on, Mr. Fashion.” She zipped it up and chucked it at him.